


Virgin of the Stars

by QueenofNargles



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fem!Harry, Female Harry Potter, i'll add tags as i go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-09-23 00:12:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9630986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenofNargles/pseuds/QueenofNargles
Summary: Astraia Potter was two years old when her parents died. Though her aunt and uncle tell her that they died in a car crash and that magic in no way exists, Astraia's not so sure.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so I've had this idea swimming around in my head since I was 14 years old. My dear friend addielouwho, who is also beta-reading/editing for me, finally writing her story inspired me to write mine. I always wondered how a girl would handle Harry's adventures so I went looking around if anyone had the same idea and all the stories I found inspired me to make my own. Before anyone asks "Astraia" is an alternate spelling of Astraea who was a Greek virgin star-goddess of justice. Hence the title. But you should definitely look into her myth. The name just kind of fell into my lap and it was perfect for a fem!Harry.
> 
> Also, disclaimer: I did take bits from the movie and the book. So I don't own anything you recognize.

Across the wizarding world of Britain, magical creatures of all kinds celebrated. At long last, the war was over. All thanks to the sacrifice of one family and, in particular, one very special little girl.

Witches and wizards across the continent raised their glasses and toasted, “To Astraia Potter - the Girl Who Lived!”

That is, all but one. In Little Whinging, Surrey, in a neighborhood not at all suited for magic, there was a cat. A very peculiar tabby cat with square like markings around its eyes, and if you squinted, they looked remarkably like spectacles.

This unusual cat appeared to be waiting, and had been waiting and watching throughout the day and long into the night. Unfortunately, the cat’s waiting was interrupted.

At the end of the street, a figure had appeared with a loud and resounding _pop!_ This figure held up a silver device, flicked it, and the light went out in the first lamppost on the street. He continued to do this until all the lamppost lights had been extinguished.

However, the cat was undeterred. This appeared to be exactly what it had been waiting for.  

With the keen eyesight of a feline, the cat could see the figure was dressed in purple robes, had a long beard that reached to its navel, and walked towards it with a long and purposeful gait.

As the figured neared, the cat jumped from the fence it had been perched upon and, in the process, made a smooth and flawless transformation. It appeared the cat was not a cat at all, but a woman. A woman with spectacles, black hair neatly smoothed back into a severe bun, and wearing emerald green robes.  

The woman hurried to meet the approaching figure, quitely exclaiming in her Scottish brogue “Albus!”

As she reached Albus, she asked frostily, “If you would be so inclined as to tell me just what I’ve been doing here all day, watching these people as you requested?”

Albus merely smiled enigmatically in response and replied, “Well, hello to you too, Professor McGonagall.”

Professor McGonagall reddened and said, “Well, yes. Hello, Albus.” She seemed to remember her initial question and followed with, “Now if you would please answer the question.”

Albus ignored her and checked his watch. He commented idly, “Hagrid’s late.”

Professor McGonagall was baffled and asked, “What does Hagrid have to do with anything?”

“I’ve come to bring Astraia Potter to her aunt and uncle. They’re the only family she has left now.”

"You don't mean -- you can't mean the people who live here?" cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at the house marked number four. "Albus -- you can't. You couldn't find two people who are less like us. And they've got this son -- I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Astraia Potter come and live here?!"

"It's the best place for her," said Dumbledore firmly. "Her aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to her when she's older. I've written them a letter."

"A letter?" repeated Professor McGonagall faintly. "Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand her! She'll be famous -- a legend -- I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Astraia Potter day in the future -- there will be books written about Astraia -- every child in our world will know her name!"

“Exactly,” Dumbledore replied, “Her life here will be quiet. You know very well that there will be certain things expected of her. Best to let her live without those expectations until she’s old enough to handle it.”

Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and then said, "Yes -- yes, you're right, of course. But how is she getting here, Dumbledore?" She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Astraia underneath it and realized something.

“You-you can’t mean to let Hagrid bring her?!” She questioned.

“I would trust Hagrid with my life,” Dumbledore replied.

Professor McGonagall harrumphed. “Yes, well, Hagrid is very sweet, but you cannot deny that he can be quite careless. Is it really _wise_ to let him handle something this-- what is that noise?”

The sound that interrupted Professor McGonagall was the far off rumbling sound of an engine. It got progressively louder as it neared. What appeared to be a headlight hovering in the night sky glowed brighter as it got closer. Eventually a huge black motorcycle reached the ground as it landed at the end of the street. It rode closer to where Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall awaited. The figure that rode the bike appeared to be quite large and had a large bundle strapped to his chest. He cradled the bundle as he dismounted from the motorcycle.  

“Hagrid,” Dumbledore greeted, “How is she?”

“Alright now, sir,” Hagrid replied. “She was crying so much that Madam Pomfrey had to spell her to sleep, the poor thing.”

Dumbledore and McGonagall bent to see inside the bundle of blankets. Inside rested a small toddler, a little girl, fast asleep. Deep black hair that reached the base of her neck and rosy cheeks plump with baby fat. Just underneath the hair on her forehead was a curious scar in the shape of a lightning bolt.

"Is that where -?" whispered Professor McGonagall.

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "She'll have that scar forever."

"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?"

"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well -- give her here, Hagrid -- we'd better get this over with."

Dumbledore took Astraia in his arms and turned toward the Dursleys' house.

"Could I -- could I say good-bye to her, sir?" asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over Astraia and gave her what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.

"Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall, "you'll wake the Muggles!"

"S-s-sorry," sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it.

"But I c-c-can't stand it -- Lily and James dead -- and poor little Astraia off to live with Muggles -"

"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found," Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore walked towards the Dursley’s front door. He gingerly set Astraia down and propped her up against the wall. He took a letter out of his cloak and tucked it inside the blankets. He took a step back and all three took a moment to look at her and consider the life she was now to live. Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.

"Well," said Dumbledore finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations." He took one last look at at Astraia and murmured, “Good luck, Astraia.”

The three hurried to leave as it wouldn’t be long before the muggles started to awaken to start their day, unaware that life of one family had been forever changed.


	2. Chapter 2

_She was small. Everything around her was large and two faces loomed above her. Faces wearing bright shining grins that made her feel warm. Safe. Loved._

_One face, “Daddy” a voice whispered, had a veritable mop of dark hair and glasses perched on the end of his nose._

_The other, “Mama” said the same voice, had long flame-bright red hair and shining emerald eyes full of love._

_“Astraia, we love you” cooed Mama as Daddy held up a long wooden stick and golden animals suddenly appeared and danced above her. A stag, a wolf, a dog, and a rat ran and played for her amusement._

_“You like that, little doe?” Daddy grinned and reached down to tickle her._

_The sound of her laughter was suddenly overcome by the sound of pounding._

Astraia’s eyes snapped open. There was a banging on her bedroom door.

“Astraia! Astraia, get up! Time to help me make breakfast!” cried out Aunt Petunia.

“Ye-Yes, Aunt Petunia,” croaked out Astraia, still in the process of waking up. Even as she spoke, her stomach was rumbling. She had been sent to bed without supper the night before.

The voice of her stomach’s desire had reminded her of the previous day’s events. It had been Dudley’s birthday, which meant a special outing; in this case, the zoo. Except she wasn't exactly interested in spending time with Dudley and his foul friend Piers. She was content to stay quiet and spend her time with the animals. Of course, that hadn't been a problem until the reptile house. She had taken a particular liking to a boa constrictor. She felt a kinship with the snake for it had lived it’s entire life in a cage on display. She had suddenly felt a fierce desire to see it free and then, in the next second, the glass had vanished and pandemonium had ensued. She was quite positive that the snake had actually thanked her for setting it free. Vernon had been rather… upset. Raving on about her “nonsense.”

This has been going on for as long as she could remember. Both vehemently passionate rants against magic and her being punished whenever something odd, or something Vernon thought was odd, happened around her. She usually feigned an ignorance about what Vernon was punishing her for, but that wasn’t always the case. There were times when strange things happened and she had no idea how they had occurred. However, there were other times. Times when she desperately desired something. In the past, she had wished Vernon's trousers to split when he bent over, they did, or to give him the uncomfortable sensation of having to urinate and delighted in watching him do that universal dance.

She had spent all night with her secret stash of books that she had smuggled into the house from the library. She had been passionate about magic for as long as she could remember and that had shown in her long hours spent in the library researching witchcraft and the history of magic.

Astraia brushed her long black hair, making sure her scar was covered (Aunt Petunia hated to see it), and that she looked presentable before she walked downstairs and entered the kitchen. As she did so, she heard Aunt Petunia order, "Crack those eggs, Astraia."

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," Astraia replied while she took the eggs from the counter and washed them before she cracked them in the bowl from the counter.

“Scrambled,” Petunia ordered.

“Yes, Aunt Petunia,” Astraia complied and proceeded to make scrambled eggs. By this point Vernon and Dudley had clambered into the kitchen and were waiting impatiently for food. After she finished making the eggs, she was ordered to set the table and then get the mail before she would be permitted to eat.

But, as she picked up the stack from below the mail slot, she noticed that the topmost letter was addressed to _her_.

_Ms. A. Potter_

_The Second Bedroom_

_4 Privet Drive_

_Little Whinging_

_Surrey_

The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the address was written in emerald-green ink. There was no stamp.

Turning the envelope over, her hand trembling, Astraia saw a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter H.

“Well?!” Vernon demanded from the kitchen.

Astraia walked back towards the kitchen, staring at her letter. However, she knew that if the letter was seen by the Dursleys, it would be taken from her immediately and she would never know what it contained. So, she slipped the letter through the slats in the cupboard door, planning to come back for it later. When she finally got back to the kitchen, Vernon and Dudley were already devouring their meals.

"Remember to keep your elbows off the table," Aunt Petunia chided Astraia, all the while Dudley and Vernon lent heavily on their elbows as they ate.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," Astraia agreed, making sure to keep her elbows elevated.

The rest of breakfast continued in the same vein. Finally, she found a minute of time to sneak away to the cupboard and retrieve her letter. She took a seat on one of the stairs and opened the strange letter.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Ms. Potter,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31. Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall,_

_Deputy Headmistress_

She couldn’t believe it. The only coherent thought running through her head was _‘I was right! Magic is real!’_ As soon she could once again think clearly, she noticed that there was another piece of parchment inside the envelope. Before she could read it, Vernon walked past her, glancing towards her spot on the stairs. His eyes immediately narrowed in on the letter in her hands. As soon as he registered what it was that she was holding, he snatched it from her. He glanced at the letter, growing red as he did so.

“UP! GET UPSTAIRS!” Vernon bellowed at Astraia, pointing towards her room. Astraia hurried to comply, fearful of making Vernon angrier. “PETUNIA!” She hear him yell as she neared her room.

Vernon never went into work that day. Astraia was kept busy doing menial chores all day. Later that night, she snuck down the stairs and spied Vernon in front of the fireplace. The fireplace was rarely lit, only on special occasions. Tonight, while it was not a special occasion, the logs were aflame. He calmly fed her letter to the fire.

 _‘Fantastic,’_ she thought. _‘Now I’ll never know how to respond.’_ She had been so astounded earlier that she barely registered anything the letter said except that magic was real.

However, whoever sent those letter seemed determined to get her another one. The letters just kept on finding her. They found her in the most unusual of ways too. For instance, once there had been a letter hidden in each of the dozen eggs inside the carton. Unfortunately, it drove Uncle Vernon crazy. Crazy enough to let them chase the entire Dursley family, Astraia included, all the way out the sea. All the way to a miserable little shack built upon a rock.

That night she slept on a small cot that had been in the corner of whatever passed as the living room in the shack. Dudley had been given the larger and presumably comfier couch and was snoring like a buzz saw. She could also hear the fierce storm that raged outside.

 _‘This is definitely not going to end well,’_ she thought, _‘a relatively small rock and a fierce sea?’_ She could hear the thunder outside. It sounded close. Very close, actually. In fact, she realized, those sounds weren’t thunder. They were knocks.

Whoever it was knocked again. Dudley jerked awake. "Where's the cannon?" he said stupidly.

There was a crash behind them and Uncle Vernon came skidding into the room. He was holding a rifle in his hands.

"Who's there?" he shouted. "I warn you -- I'm armed!"

There was a pause. Then -

SMASH!

The door was hit with such force that it swung clean off its hinges and with a deafening crash landed flat on the floor.

A giant of a man was standing in the doorway. The giant squeezed his way into the hut, stooping so that his head just brushed the ceiling. He bent down, picked up the door, and fitted it easily back into its frame. The noise of the storm outside dropped a little. He turned to look at them all.

“Sorry about that,” the giant said, looking around and stopping near Vernon.

“I demand that you leave at once, sir!” he said. “You are breaking and entering!”

“Ah, dry up, Dursley, you great prune,” said the giant, bending the muzzle of the rifle upwards. Vernon had a shell shocked expression on his face.

The giant turned towards where Astraia had tucked herself into a corner with a great smile on his face, “Astraia, there you are! I haven’t seen you since you was a wee toddler. You look so much like your mum, especially the eyes. And your hair, that’s your dad. Got something for you. I know it’s a little early, but I couldn’t help myself. Afraid I might have sat on it at some point but I imagine it'll taste fine just the same. Baked it myself, words and all.” He handed her a white box that he pulled of the inner recesses of his coat. When she opened it, she saw the misspelled words of ‘Hapee Birthdae!’ written on a pink iced birthday cake.

“Thank you very much, sir. But who are you?” A bewildered Astraia asked.

The giant chuckled, "True, I haven't introduced meself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts." He held out an enormous hand and shook Astraia's whole arm. The giant, Hagrid, sat down on the dilapidated sofa, which sagged under his weight, in front of the cold fireplace. He pulled out a pink umbrella, pointed, and balls of fire came shooting out of the tip and lit the fireplace. What had once been cold and barren was now a roaring fire. It filled the whole damp hut with flickering light and she felt the warmth wash over her as though he'd sunk into a hot bath.

Astraia waited a few more minutes, waiting for him to elaborate _please_ , but it never came. Finally she could no longer patiently wait and blurted out, “I’m sorry Mr Hagrid, but I still don’t really understand. _Who_ are you?”

"Call me Hagrid," he said, "everyone does. And like I told you, I'm Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts -- you'll know all about Hogwarts, of course.

"No, actually.” Astraia said. Hagrid looked shocked.

"Sorry," Astraia felt obligated to add.

"Sorry?" barked Hagrid, turning to stare at the Dursleys, who shrank back into the shadows. "It's them as should be sorry! I knew you weren't gettin' your letters but I never thought you wouldn't even know about Hogwarts, for cryin' out loud! Did you never wonder where your parents learned it all?"

"All what?" asked Astraia, though she had a sneaking suspicion, _hope_ really.

"ALL WHAT?" Hagrid thundered. "Now wait just one second!" He had leapt to his feet. In his anger he seemed to fill the whole hut. The Dursleys were cowering against the wall.

"Do you mean to tell me," he growled at the Dursleys, "that this girl -this girl! -- knows nothin' about -- about ANYTHING?"

“Excuse me, but I did rather well in school, you know.” said an affronted Astraia.

But Hagrid simply waved his hand and said, "About our world, I mean. Your world. My world. Your parents' world."

"What world?"

Hagrid looked as if he was about to explode.

"DURSLEY!" he boomed.

Uncle Vernon, who had gone very pale, whispered something that sounded like "Mimblewimble."

Hagrid stared wildly at Astraia.

"But you must know about your mom and dad," he said. "I mean, they're famous. You're famous."

"What? My -- my mom and dad weren't famous, were they?"

"You don't know... you don't know..." Hagrid ran his fingers through his hair, fixing Astraia with a bewildered stare.

"You don't know what you are?" he said finally.

Uncle Vernon seemed to find his voice.

"Stop!" he commanded. "Stop right there, sit! I forbid you to tell her anything!"

A braver man than Vernon Dursley would have wilted under the furious look Hagrid now gave him; when Hagrid spoke, his every syllable trembled with rage.

"You never told her? Never told her what was in the letter Dumbledore left for her? I was there! I saw Dumbledore leave it, Dursley! And you've kept it from her all these years?"

"Kept what from me?" said Astraia eagerly, though she thought she already knew.

"STOP! I FORBID YOU!" yelled Uncle Vernon in panic.

Aunt Petunia gave a gasp of horror.

"Ah, go boil your heads, both of yeh," said Hagrid. "Astraia -- you’re a witch."

There was silence inside the hut. Only the sea and the whistling wind could be heard.

"Pardon?” asked a shocked Astraia. She’d always known there was something different about her, something _other_ , but to actually hear it aloud.

"A witch," said Hagrid, sitting back down on the sofa, which groaned and sank even lower, "and a thumpin' good'un, I'd wager, once you've been trained up a little. With a mum and dad like yours, what else would you be? And I reckon it's about time you read your letter."

Astraia reached out to take the yellowish envelope, addressed in emerald green to Ms. A. Potter, The Cot, Hut-on-the-Rock, The Sea. She pulled out the letter and, finally in a state capable of retaining said letter, read:

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Ms. Potter,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31. Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall,_

_Deputy Headmistress_

Questions exploded inside Astraia's head like fireworks and they all kept coming so quickly that she couldn't decide which to ask first. After a few minutes she asked, "What does it mean, they await my owl?"

Before Hagrid could respond, Uncle Vernon, still ashen-faced but looking very angry, moved into the firelight.

“She will not be going! We swore when we took her in that we would put a stop to all of this rubbish!” Vernon proclaimed.

“You knew? You knew all along and you never told me?” Astraia had always known that her parents were magic, but the idea that Petunia and Vernon had known had never really occurred to her.

“Of course we knew. How could you not be? My perfect sister being who she was. Oh I remember the day she got her letter. My parents were so proud. We have a witch in the family. Isn't it wonderful? I was the only one who saw her for what she was… a freak. And then she met that Potter, and then she had you and I knew you would be the same just as strange just as abnormal. And then, if you please, she got herself blown up, and we got landed with you.” Petunia ranted.

“Blown up?! You told me my parents died in a car crash!” Astraia was shocked and outraged. ‘ _How dare they lie to her?! Especially about_ her _parents?!’_ she thought.

"CAR CRASH!" roared Hagrid, jumping up so angrily that the Dursleys scuttled back to their corner. "How could a car crash kill Lily an' James Potter? It's an outrage! A scandal!”

“She will not be going.” Vernon blustered.

“Oh and I suppose a great Muggle like yourself is gonna stop her.” Hagrid mocked.

“Muggle?” Astraia asked. She had never heard this word before.

“Non-magic folk.” Hagrid took a second to explain before he turned his attention back to Vernon. “This girl's had her name down since she were born. She's going to the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world. And she'll be under the finest headmaster that Hogwarts has ever seen, Albus Dumbledore…”

“I will not pay to have some crackpot old fool teach her magic tricks!” Vernon continued to insist.

Hagrid went deathly silent and whipped out his umbrella to point it directly under Vernon’s chin. Vernon himself went cross eyed looking at it without moving his head.

“Never insult Albus Dumbledore in front of me…” Hagrid threatened quietly before looking to the side at Dudley who had been eating from her birthday cake. Hagrid pointed his umbrella at Dudley and there was a flash of violet light, a sound like a firecracker, a sharp squeal, and the next second, Dudley was dancing on the spot with his hands clasped over his fat bottom, howling in pain. When he turned his back on them, Astraia saw a curly pig's tail poking through a hole in his trousers.

Uncle Vernon roared while Petunia and Dudley screamed. Pulling Aunt Petunia and Dudley into the other room, he cast one last terrified look at Hagrid and slammed the door behind them.

Hagrid looked down at his umbrella and stroked his beard.

"Shouldn'ta lost me temper," he said ruefully, "but it didn't work anyway. Meant to turn him into a pig, but I suppose he was so much like a pig anyway there wasn't much left to do. I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone at Hogwarts about that. Strictly speaking I'm not supposed to do magic.”

Astraia smiled and nodded to signify that she would keep his secret.

“Well, it’s rather late. Didn't quite anticipate all the ruckus. Suppose we’ll have to kip here for the night.” Hagrid said.

Astraia nodded before saying, “I’ll sleep on my cot, but you’re free to use the sofa.”

Hagrid nodded and thanked her before laying down on the sofa. Not long after, there was the sound of great thundering snores.

Astraia lay with her eyes open for a while longer, thinking about all the great surprises that had happened today. She felt vindicated. Triumphant. _‘I was right,’_ she thought. That night, Astraia fell asleep with a contented smile on her face.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, it's been a while hasn't it? So in case you didn't notice, I changed part of Astraia's dream so James calls her "little doe". This will come into more significance soon.

Last night, she had experienced one of the best nights of sleep in her short life. It had been followed, after waking and a brief breakfast of sausage cooked by the fire, by travelling with Hagrid to London. She had taken a look through the supply list while they were on the tube.

_ HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY _

_ UNIFORM _

_ First-year students will require: _

  1. _Three sets of plain work robes (black)_
  2. _One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear_
  3. _One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)_
  4. _One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)_



_ Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags _

_ COURSE BOOKS _

_ All students should have a copy of each of the following: _

_ The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk _

_ A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot _

_ Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling _

_ A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emetic Switch _

_ One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore _

_ Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger _

_ Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander _

_ The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble _

_ OTHER EQUIPMENT _

_ wand  _

_ cauldron (pewter, standard size 2) set _

_ glass or crystal phials _

_ telescope set _

_ brass scales _

_ Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad _

_ PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS _

“Excuse me, Hagrid. I haven’t any money of my own. How will I pay for all this?” 

Hagrid chuckled and shook his massive head. She could see the whites of his teeth gleaming from inside his dark nest of a beard. “Don’t worry about that. Do you think your parents didn't leave you anything?” 

Astraia was astounded and it showed in her gobsmacked expression. “Well, I suppose I never really thought about it.” 

Hagrid offered her a kind smile and tried to reassure her. “That's alright. Wizards have their own bank. It's called Gringotts and it's run by the finest goblins around. They'll take good care of you. Gringotts is the safest place in the world for anything you want to keep safe —’cept maybe Hogwarts. As a matter of fact, I gotta visit Gringotts anyway. For Dumbledore. Hogwarts business.” Hagrid drew himself up proudly.

Astraia gave a smile of thanks before she moved on to her next question. “Even if I do have the means to pay, can we really find all this in London?”

“If you know where to go,” replied Hagrid.

\-----

They were on a mundane road near the tube station in London. She had asked Hagrid what he meant, but he hadn't answered. Although, she wasn't certain, but she thought she saw something of a sparkle in his black eyes. 

As they started down Charing Cross Road, Hagrid started to slow down and Astraia looked at him curiously. Why were they slowing down? This was just an ordinary street full of people. Could there really be piles of wizarding gold buried miles beneath them as Hagrid had later told her on the train? Were there really shops that sold spell books and broomsticks? Or was this some cruel joke the gods were playing on her? But this was everything she had ever wanted. She had to believe it. Besides, Hagrid had given her no reason to doubt him as he had been nothing but kind and reassuring so far. 

“This is it,” said Hagrid, coming to a halt, “the Leaky Cauldron. It’s a famous place.”   
  


It was a tiny, grubby-looking pub. If Hagrid hadn’t pointed it out, Astraia probably wouldn’t have noticed it was there. The other people on the street didn’t even glance at it. Their eyes slid from shop to shop as if they couldn’t see the Leaky Cauldron at all. Astraia was certain that it was some kind of enchantment. Before she could ask, Hagrid had already herded her inside. 

While the interior was dark and shabby, Astraia noted that it was very well kept. There was barely any dust at all. She was impressed. With a little more work they might even be able to meet Aunt Petunia's standards. 

Everyone in the pub seemed to know Hagrid; they all waved and smiled at him, and the bartender reached for a glass, saying “The usual, Hagrid?” 

“Can't Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business,” said Hagrid, nodding in Astraia’s direction. 

She made sure to smile politely when he looked in her direction. “Good Lord,” said the bartender, peering at Astraia, “is this — can this be — ?”

The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent.   
  


“Bless my soul,” whispered the old bartender, “Astraia Potter . . . what an honor.”   
  


He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Astraia and seized her hand, tears in his eyes. “Welcome back, Miss Potter, welcome back.”

Astraia wasn't quite sure what to say. Everyone was staring at her. An old woman was puffing on a pipe that she hadn't realized had gone out. Hagrid was beaming. 

There was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, Astraia found herself confronted with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron and they all seemed insistent on shaking her hand.

“Doris Crockford, Miss Potter, can’t believe I’m meeting you at last.” “I'm pleased to meet you as well.” 

“So proud, Miss Potter, I’m just so proud.” “Thank you.”

“Always wanted to shake your hand — I’m all of a flutter.” “Hello” 

“Delighted, Miss Potter, just can’t tell you, Diggle’s the name, Dedalus Diggle.” Now she was quite sure that she actually recognized this one. He had bowed to her when she was in a shop with her Aunt Petunia. Petunia had gone pale and dragged her away before she could react. She wasn't going to mention it though, just smile politely and nod.

Astraia stood there shaking hands for so long that her cheeks starting to hurt from keeping the smile on her face. 

A pale young man made his way forward, seemingly very nervous. One of his eyes was twitching.   
  


“Professor Quirrell!” greeted Hagrid. “Astraia, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts.”   
  


“M-M-Miss P-P-Potter,” stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping Astraia ’s hand, “c-can’t t-tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you.”   
  


“What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?” she was genuinely interested in the answer. 

“D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts,” muttered Professor Quirrell, as though he’d rather not think about it. “N-not that you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potter?” He laughed nervously. “You’ll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I’ve g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself.” He looked terrified at the very thought.   
  


But the others wouldn’t let Professor Quirrell keep Astraia to himself. It took almost ten minutes to get away from them all. At last, Hagrid managed to make himself heard over the babble.   
  


“Must get on — lots to buy. Come on, Astraia.”   
  


Doris Crockford shook Astraia's hand one last time, and Hagrid led them through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard.

Hagrid grinned at Astraia.   
  


“Told ya, didn’t I? Told ya you was famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin’ to meet ya — mind you, he’s usually tremblin’.”   
  


“Not to be rude, but is he always that nervous?”   
  


“Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studyin’ outta books but then he took a year off ter get some first-hand experience. . . . They say he met vampires in the Black Forest, and there was a nasty bit of trouble with a hag — never been the same since. Scared of the students, scared of his own subject — now, where’s me umbrella?”

Vampires? Hags? This world was even bigger than she had anticipated! 

Hagrid was counting bricks in the wall across from the door. 

“Three up . . . two across . . .” he muttered. “Right, stand back, Astraia.”   
  


He tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella.   
  


The brick he had touched quivered — it wriggled — in the middle, a small hole appeared — it grew wider and wider — a second later they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.   
  


“Welcome,” said Hagrid, “to Diagon Alley.”

He grinned at Astraia's amazement. They stepped through the archway. Astraia didn't even care to watch the archway shrink instantly back into solid wall behind her.   
  


Hagrid pointed at a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop. “You'll be needin’ one of these,” said Hagrid, “but we gotta get your money first.”

Astraia couldn't decide what she wanted to look at more. Everything was fascinating to her. A woman passing her was muttering to herself about the price of dragon liver. She spied a wall of owls with a sign declaring it Eyelops Owl Emporium. Several boys about Astraia’s age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. She heard a boy say one of them was “the new Nimbus Two Thousand.” An orange cat with a squashed face that looked slightly familiar darted across the alley. It was even better than she had imagined it would be. Astraia had a look of awe painted across her face. 

As they continued through the alley, bright colors everywhere she looked, she noticed the white steps that led to an expansive set of bronze doors that appeared to be a snowy white building at the end of the alley. Growing closer, she noticed the short figure covered in gold armor and equipped with a spear flanking the doors. 

“Gringotts,” said Hagrid, presenting the building to her as they reached the steps.

Now climbing the steps, she internally debated with herself and decided that this was a Buckingham Palace situation and kept her head straight when passing the guard posted at the door. Walking through the door, she noticed something engraved on the surface. 

_ Enter, stranger, but take heed _ __  
_ Of what awaits the sin of greed _ __  
_ For those who take, but do not earn, _ __  
_ Must pay most dearly in their turn. _ __  
_ So if you seek beneath our floors _ __  
_ A treasure that was never yours, _ __  
_ Thief, you have been warned, beware _ _  
_ __ Of finding more than treasure there.

She looked upon the engraving with a solemn face and vowed to think twice before taking offense with these “goblins” as she recalled. “Like I said, you'd be mad to try and rob it,” said Hagrid with a serious tone. 

The next second they were in a vast marble hall with about a hundred clerks were sitting on high stools behind a long counter each with a long line of customers and too many doors to count leading off the hall. Hagrid began to direct Astraia to the counter. 

“Morning,” said Hagrid to a free goblin. “We’ve come to take some money out of Miss Astraia Potter’s vault.”   
  


“You have her key, sir?”   
  


“Got it here somewhere,” said Hagrid, and he started emptying his pockets onto the counter. The goblin wrinkled his nose as Hagrid dropped something on his ledger. Astraia couldn't help but watch the goblin on their right weighing a pile of rubies as big as glowing coals.   
  


“Got it,” said Hagrid at last, holding up a tiny golden key.

“That seems to be in order. And would Miss Potter like to see the Potter Family Account Manager today?” The goblin asked. 

Astraia was stunned but was careful to not let it show and Hagrid seemed a little dumbstruck by the question as if he had never even considered it would be asked. After a moment, Hagrid looked at Astraia with the same dumbfounded look and Astraia determined that she was going to have to answer. 

“Not today, thank you,” she said politely and nodded. 

Hagrid seemed to come back to himself and started to speak a little hurriedly. “And I’ve also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore,” he said importantly, throwing out his chest. “It’s about the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen.”   
  


The goblin read the letter carefully.   
  


“Very well,” he said, handing it back to Hagrid, “I will have someone take you down to both vaults. Griphook!”

Griphook was another goblin. Once Hagrid had crammed everything back into his pockets, they were led towards one of the doors leading off the hall. Griphook held the door open for them. Once inside Astraia was surprised. She had been expecting more marble. They were in a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches and sloped steeply downward. She noticed there were little railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks toward them. They climbed in — Hagrid with some difficulty — and were off.

At first they just hurtled through a max of twisting passages. While Astraia had never been on rollercoaster, she imagined it was quite like this. She was surprised to find that she rather liked it. She was even more surprised when she noticed that Griphook wasn't steering. It seemed that the cart knew it's own way. 

Once, she thought she saw a burst of fire at the end of a passage and twisted around to see if it was a dragon, but too late — they plunged even deeper, passing an underground lake where huge stalactites and stalagmites grew from the ceiling and floor.

Hagrid looked very green, and when the cart stopped at last beside a small door in the passage wall, he got out and had to lean against the wall to stop his knees from trembling.   
  


Griphook unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billowing out, and as it cleared, Astraia gasped. Inside were mounds of gold coins. Columns of silver. Heaps of little bronze coins.   
  


“All yours,” smiled Hagrid.   
  


All Astraia’s -- it was amazing. More than she had ever dreamed. The Dursleys couldn't have known or they'd have snatched it up before she could blink. How often had Vernon complained how much Astraia cost to keep? And this entire time there had been a small fortune belonging to her, buried deep under London? 

After Hagrid pulled a bag for her out of his enormous coat, he helped Astraia pile some of  _ her fortune _ into it. While doing this, he explained the names and worth of the three different types of coin she saw in the vault. 

“Right, that should be enough for a couple of’ terms, we’ll keep the rest safe for you.” He turned to Griphook. “Vault seven hundred and thirteen now, please, and can we go more slowly?”   
  


“One speed only,” said Griphook, but Astraia thought she saw a certain glee in his eyes. 

They were going even deeper now and appeared to be gathering speed. The air became colder and colder as they hurtled round tight corners. They went rattling over an underground ravine, and Astraia tried to leaned over the side to see what was down at the dark bottom, but Hagrid groaned and pulled her arm to maneuver her back into her seat. 

Vault seven hundred and thirteen had no keyhole.

“Stand back,” said Griphook importantly. He stroked the door gently with one of his long fingers and it simply melted away.   
  


“If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they’d be sucked through the door and trapped in there,” said Griphook.

Astraia was sure that something extremely valuable had to be in this vault to warrant such extraordinary security measures. 

“Well I at least know my money is safe,” said Astraia in a deadpan tone. 

“Absolutely, Miss. We at Gringotts take great pride in our reputation for safety,” said Griphook with a rather nasty smile. 

When the door opened, Astraia thought it was empty at first. Then she noticed a grubby little package wrapped up in brown paper lying on the floor. Hagrid picked it up and tucked it deep inside his coat. Astraia was very curious to know what was lying beneath that paper. 

“Come on, back in this infernal cart, and don’t talk to me on the way back, it’s best if I keep me mouth shut,” said Hagrid.

\-----

One exhilarating cart ride later and Astraia didn't know where she wanted to go first. She was almost trembling from the fact the she was holding more money than she had even seen in her entire life. When she had thought about her parents their monetary assets had certainly never come to mind. 

“Might as well get yer uniform,” said Hagrid, nodding toward Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions. “Listen, Astraia, would ye mind if I slipped off for a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts.”   
  


“Absolutely, Hagrid. Feel better. I'll be fine.” Astraia assured him and waited for him to turn around before she took a deep breath, steeling herself, and headed into Madam Malkin’s shop alone. 

Madam Malkin was a smiling witch dressed completely in mauve. 

“Hogwarts, dear?” she said, when Astraia started to speak. “Got the lot here — another young man being fitted up just now, in fact.”

Also inside the shop was a boy around her age with pale blonde slicked back hair and a sour expression on his face. She gathered he probably didn't want to be clothes shopping with his mother of all people. She was sure that the woman with him was his mother based on their similar appearances. Astraia couldn't help but admire the opulence of the picture the blonde woman presented. 

“Hello,” said the boy, “Hogwarts, too?

She was slightly startled by his bluntness but she soldiered on.

“Hello,” she greeted, “how do you do? Yes, I am going to Hogwarts.”

“Draco, it's rude to not introduce yourself. Hello, I am Narcissa Malfoy.” Her voice was low and refined. It sounded like the kind of voice that Petunia tried her damnedest to emulate. Tries and fails, constantly. Of course, she would never tell her that. Besides, it was too much fun to watch her make a fool of herself. 

The boy, who she now knew was Draco, grimaced and appeared to be trying not to roll his eyes. 

“Apologies. My name is Draco Malfoy.”  He said, slightly begrudgingly. 

“May I say madam that you are as beautiful as your namesake? My name is Astraia Potter.” Astraia wasn't expecting the reaction that her name brought upon these two. While the woman’s reaction, her eyes became icy, was subtle, the boy’s was far less so. Immediately, there was an ugly sneer on Draco’s face. 

“Potter, you say? If you're  _ Astraia Potter _ , then why are you here all by yourself? Are your guardians not good enough?” 

Astraia was rather taken aback by his sudden hostility, but before she could even contemplate answering, his mother stepped in. 

“Now, now Draco. It's rude to ask such questions of a lady.” 

Before anything  _ else  _ could happen, Madam Malkin reappeared and led Astraia away where she was then handed off to an assistant. Thirty minutes later, she was sartorially ready for school and the Malfoys were gone. 

She walked through the door and, immediately spotting Hagrid walking toward her, started in his direction. 

\-----

After acquiring the rest of her supplies, she was rather excited about what the telescope implied, Astraia looked to Hagrid as they walked through the alley.

“I still need a wand.”

“Well, you'll be wanting Ollivanders for that. There ain't no place better. I just got one more thing I got to do, so I'll leave you to it if you don’t mind.”

As she walked towards the shop, she noticed the shop window boasted that they had been in business since 382 BC. 

_ I suppose this means that there's no one more qualified to get my wand from, _ she thought to herself reassuringly.

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as she stepped inside. Astraia was so excited she could feel a tremor in her hands. She could feel the magic in the air. 

The shop appeared to be completely empty. “Hello,” she called out, hoping for an answer. She was beginning to feel foolish when she heard a soft voice practically whisper “Good afternoon.” 

Astraia could barely contain her jump of surprise. An old man was standing on a moving ladder with wide pale eyes shining like moons. 

“I wondered when I'd be seeing you, Miss Potter.” He climbed down the ladder and moved over to tall leaning stack of oblong boxes that she assumed contained wands.

“It seems only yesterday that your mother and father were in here buying their first wands.” He choose a box from the stack and carefully pulled it out. She was rather impressed when the stack stayed standing and didn't completely topple over. He took the wand out of its box and handed it her. The wand was in her hand for about two seconds before Mr Ollivander had snatched it away again. This continued in the same vein for another ten minutes. The longer it took, the more excited Mr Ollivander appeared to become.

Astraia was beginning to become a tad frustrated but you wouldn't know it when looking at her. She had been dreaming about having her very own wand since she had read about them in her research about magic. Finally, she felt it necessary to step in.

“If it helps at all, I've always been rather fond of rowan trees.” 

After all, rowan is the tree of power causing life and magic to flower. At least, according to an old Celtic and Druidic saying that she had come across during hours spent in the library. 

Mr Ollivander acquired an odd look on his face and muttered “I wonder…” He disappeared into the rows of shelves and reappeared a moment later with another wand box in his hands. 

“Rare combination -- rowan and phoenix feather, eleven inches.” He said while taking the top off the box to retrieve the wand within. “Be warned for when combined with phoenix feather, rowan wood wands are the power of fire incarnate.” He held the wand in his fingers gingerly, cautiously.

Astraia took this new pale wand in her hands. She could feel a peculiar warmth rush through her body, like fire. She was so entranced by this feeling of warmth and the sense of being complete that she didn't notice the flaring lights or the sudden wind that rushed through the room and blew her hair away from her forehead, exposing her lightning bolt scar. Nor did she notice the magical glow in her green eyes. 

“Curious. Very curious.” 

Astraia was startled out of her trance and slowly looked back up at Mr Ollivander. 

“Pardon me, but what's curious?” 

“I remember every wand I've ever sold, Miss Potter. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather resides in your wand gave another feather. Just one other. It is curious that you should be destined for this wand when its brother gave you that scar.” 

Her scar? She had never thought about how she got her scar. As far as she knew, it had always been there. 

“And who owned that wand?” 

Mr Ollivander walked over to her and spoke quietly, forcing her to lean forward slightly so she could hear. 

“Oh, we do not speak his name. The wand chooses the wizard Miss Potter. It is not always clear why. But I think it is clear that we can expect great things from you. After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things. Terrible, yes, but great.” 

Ollivander leaned back, bringing his hand to his chin, and stared at her with a peculiar look in his eye. “Miss Potter, I believe I should make it clear that I cannot recall a single Dark witch or wizard who ever owned a rowan wand. Furthermore, I cannot recall a single instance where one of my own rowan wands has gone on to do evil in the world. Yes, I do believe we can expect great things from you.” 

Astraia wasn't quite sure what to think. She couldn't recall a time where someone had that much faith in her. She knew she wanted to ask more questions but suddenly there was a rapping on the window. It was Hagrid. 

“Astraia, happy birthday!” In his hand was a cage containing a beautiful snowy white owl. Hagrid held the carrier up higher to make sure that she could see the owl. 

\-----

After thanking Hagrid profusely for her birthday gift, they had adjourned back to the Leaky Cauldron for lunch. 

“You alright, Astraia? You seem very quiet,” Hagrid asked, seeming concerned.

Astraia hesitated for a moment. Her entire life, she had been told that her parents had died in an automobile accident. She couldn't remember their deaths. She'd had no other option than to accept the Dursley’s story as truth, even though usually she knew better than that. 

“He killed my parents, didn't he? The one who gave me this.” She brought her hand to her forehead and brushed her hair aside to show her scar. 

“You know Hagrid. I know you do.” She could see it. Hagrid was looking down into his lap, avoiding her gaze, and his expression was somber.

Hagrid sighed and turned to her, pushing his food away in the process. 

“First- and understand this, Astraia, this is very important. Not all wizards are good. Some of them go bad. A few years ago there was a wizard who went as bad as you can go. His name was V--” Hagrid hesitated, taking a deep breath. “His name was V--” He hesitated again. 

“Maybe if you wrote it down?” She offered, concerned. This was obviously causing him anxiety. 

“No, I can't spell it,” he declined. “Alright. Voldemort.” For a moment, Hagrid looked terrified. 

_ Voldemort. _ Astraia didn't say this out loud and waited for Hagrid to continue speaking.

“These were dark times, Astraia. Voldemort started to gather some followers and brought ‘em over to the dark side. Anyone that stood up to him ended up dead. Your parents fought against him...” 

As Astraia listened, she could see, in her mind, a flash of green light and she heard a high, cold, cruel laugh.

“...but nobody lived once he decided to kill him. Except you.” 

_ Her? _

_ “ _ Voldemort… tried to kill _ me _ ?” She asked with a perplexed look on her face. She could think only  _ ‘Why me?’ _

Hagrid nodded. “Yes. That ain't no ordinary cut on your forehead, Astraia. A mark like that only comes from a curse. And an evil curse at that.” 

Astraia hand almost flew to her forehead, but she just managed to hold herself back.  _ Was her scar evil?  _

“What happened to… You-Know-Who?” She asked, recalling his anxiety about the name Voldemort. 

A sigh. “Well, some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Nope, he's still out there, I reckon. Too tired to carry on. But, one thing is for certain. Something about you stumped him that night. That's why you're famous. That's why everyone knows your name. You're the Girl-Who-Lived.”

Hagrid looked at Astraia with warmth and respect blazing in his eyes, but Astraia only felt cold and confused. She grew quiet again after that. Hagrid left her to her thoughts, rightly assuming that she needed a little time to process. 

Once their meal was finished, Hagrid took her back to the Dursleys where she was left to wait for the opportunity that she had been wishing for her entire life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I really wasn't sure about the scene with the Malfoys. I got halfway through it and then I had no idea where to take it. Do you guys have any thoughts on how I could improve it? Actually, constructive criticism of any kind is welcome. And I do mean constructive, please. No hate. Anyways, thanks for reading even though my updates are pretty erratic.


End file.
